Somewhere Sideways
by inca-dove
Summary: He left her with no options. There was no right, no wrong, only the in between stood before them. Just as it always had, and just as it always would. But the question remained, what now?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: You might find it shocking but I don't actually own the characters, nor did I create the locations. I'm just a puppet master happily manipulating them to do my every whim.

**This story takes place after the end of the game. For those of you who have yet to beat it, this story is chock-full of spoilers. You have here-by been warned.**

A/N: A few things to note…

1\. I am nowhere near a regular updater. Some days brilliance will strike and I will whip out a chapter, other days I will spend _hours_ staring at my comp screen and only type the world "and."

2\. Trolls belong under a bridge, not in reviews.

3\. Constructive criticism is more than welcome. So feel free to let me know if you find any errors. Also feel free to throw out ideas, or to guess where I'm going with my story. I love reviews… they make this writer happy.

4\. I'm going to keep my Lavellan impersonal, that way she can be any of your Lavellans… unless of course you made her bald… might have an issue then lol. Also, I lack name creativity so her name was Ellana hehe?

* * *

**_Somewhere Sideways_**

**_Chapter One_**

_Memories_

_All of my memories keep you near.  
In silent moments imagine you here._

* * *

_She felt as emotionally drained as she did physically, she also felt entirely too dirty. A bath was in order, a nice, hot, steamy, and maybe even slightly lavender smelly bath. Creators, she was tired as she made her way into the main hall with her comrades closely behind her. They all bid her good night before dispersing toward their respected quarters. Though, why she was standing in front of the doors that would lead to the rotunda, would lead to him, instead of the doors that would lead to her room, she was unsure. A bath seemed far more appealing didn't it?_

_She knew he was in there, could see the light as it trickled through the cracks around the door. Intrigued about what Solas could possibly be doing awake at such a late hour, Lavellan pushed the door open and walked into the round room._

_True to form, Solas appeared to be casually strolling in circles around the desk, his nose buried in one of his many books. His form was lithe and casual, strong and intense, and she begrudgingly admitted to herself that she enjoyed watching him._

_His head snapped up, and her checks burned with the embarrassment of being caught staring._

"_Hello, lethallan."_

"_Hello, Solas." _

_Solas stared, Lavellan fidgeted, seconds ticked by._

"_Do you require my assistance?"_

_No, she thought, I just wanted to stare at you. Of course that wasn't what she would say though, unless there would be a hole for her to fall though. There wasn't going to be however, and she idly wondered if such a spell existed. Perhaps she would have to have a talk with Dorian about it the next day. Would be an easy way to get rid of groups of enemies, maybe even Corypheus would kindly step into one such hole. It couldn't be that easy, it was never that easy._

_Solas was still staring at her expectantly. _

_Oh yes, he had asked her a question and was probably waiting for her reply. Her nervous half laugh echoed through the room, her mind too tired to try and think of a witty response._

"_No?" Wait, she wanted to amend that, there were plenty of things that she would like his assistance with. Like scrubbing her back in the hot bath for one, yes, that would be enjoyable. Hardly appropriate however, she frowned._

"_No?" The book in his hands snapped shut and was discarded on the table._

_Great, now she had his full attention. Why couldn't there be a hole again? Oh that was right, she wasn't a mage. Definitely going to have to speak with Dorian. He walked toward her then, and the thought crossed her mind that he really had no right to look so appealing by just walking._

"_I was just about to turn in for the night, shall I walk you?"_

"_Walk me … To your quarters?" Lavellan squeaked._

_Solas paused, and she was sure it looked like he was contemplating the idea. She was too tired for … whatever this was, she should have just gone straight to her room. A small chuckle brought her out of her internal musings._

"_Compelling, but no, to your quarters, Inquisitor." If she hadn't seen the smirk on his face she would have known it was there just by the tone of his voice._

_The mirth that danced behind his eyes captivated her, threatened to devour her. She turned on her heel, "No, that won't be necessary, thank you."_

_Soft chuckles followed after her retreating form from the circular room._

* * *

She didn't understand. He hadn't explained anything to her, nor had anything become clear as he said it would.

Perhaps it was always meant to end this way. There had been no promises given between the two, no claims toward the other. Sure, declarations of love and shadows of intent, but promises? Never. In a way, today, the world was as it should be. Everything they had fought to protect, everything they had worked to achieve, it was all done. Well, in a sense, at least.

It did not make it hurt any less, did not fill the wound in her chest.

Why? Because he just… left, vanished without a trace, without a sign to show that he had been there, that she had just spoken to him. Of course, since there had been no formal "good bye" exchanged between the two she could fancy the notion that he could, by all means, come back. A soft, almost cynical in nature, snicker escaped rose colored lips. She knew she wouldn't see Solas again. Upon his refusal of her, of a life, a future with her, she could understand how he might see nothing left for him at Skyhold.

Lavellan stood, leaning against the railing on her private attached balcony, and stared out over the vast mountain scape toward the rising sun. Knowing this, knowing there was no point of holding onto memories of him offered little solace. Her heart ached in ways she didn't know a person could hurt. But even as she tried, she could not find the courage to leave him behind, to leave the past where it lay; dormant, cold, and unfeeling.

But he had left, he had let go to leave her in the past as it were. Today then, it would be the last that she would allow herself to feel her sorrow, even as she would still cling to the memories that were of him; their memories. Sadness may perforate through them, but there was no denying the happiness she had felt during those moments.

Lightless eyes watched as the grounds below erupted with life. Merchants were opening up their stands, the soldiers lining up for their morning drills, and if she listened intently enough she could hear the howls of laughter and drunken cheer from the residents within the tavern.

Still, she had her duties, her responsibilities to attend to for the morning. With one last sigh, one last moment of peace, Lavellan turned from the balcony and made her way back through her quarters to the main hall and finally into Josephine's office, pausing only briefly to exchange pleasantries to passing dignitaries.

Josephine, it appeared, was already hard at work.

"Ah, Inquisitor! If you have a moment, I have a matter that requires your attention."

"Of course you do. And which Duke is it that would like to shake the hand of the great and wonderful herald this time?"

Josephine didn't even bat an eyelash, so engrossed was she with the letter resting before her on the desk. "Actually, a farmer in the Hinterlands is petitioning for reimbursement from us for allegedly slaughtering his sheep, which was, it seems, his livelihood."

"His sheep?"

"Yes."

"How much is he asking?"

"1000 Sovereigns"

There was a long pause, Lavellan wasn't exactly sure if Josephine was joking or not.

"Extortion."

Josephine finally looked up from her desk and smiled sardonically "yes, most decidedly, but this is not what I need you for. Please, Inquisitor, have a seat." She motioned with a sweep of her hand for Lavellan to sit.

The seat was plush and velvet and far more comfortable than it appeared it would be. Josephine's smile suddenly turned wicked when she noticed Lavellan was inspecting her chair. "Commander Cullens, actually, or was, to be more correct."

Lavellan looked up confused, "I'm sorry?"

"The chair, its comfortable no? Poor Cullen will have to go without it now." She sighed a happy sigh "should never bet against an Antivan."

"Yes, a lesson I well learned from our game of Wicked Grace." Lavellan laughed. "Now then, shall we get to business?"

* * *

_Calloused fingers brush her cheek. Sweet, gentle, loving._

_Lips cover hers. Crushing, hungry, passionate._

_A confession, a mistake, empty words that weigh too much. Alarming, hurting, burning, the tear slides down her face._

_Confusion and sorrow, "I love you."_

_Regret and anguish, "I can't."_

* * *

"Inquisitor, how would you like me to respond?" Josephine asked.

When there was no answer forthcoming from said individual, Josephine tried again, "Lady Lavellan? Are you to go and settle this matter or shall I call in a favor?"

Oh how Josephine disliked to be ignored, very, truly, disdained it to her core. "Ellana."

The use of her first name snapped Lavellan from her thoughts and back to the present, "No … I mean yes… I mean, I'm sorry what?" She gave a short laugh; the look on Josephine's face was almost priceless.

"As I was saying, forces in the Free Marches seem to be gathering, for what, I have not yet been informed. As the Inquisitor who defeated Corypheus and saved the world, you have the unique ability to calm the masses with your presence, or if you would prefer, I may call in a favor with a friend of mine up there."

"It's only been a month since his defeat, I would have though the people might have wanted to wait a bit longer before causing an uproar of some kind." She shook her head in disbelief, though it really shouldn't have surprised her.

"Be that as it may, the intel is not complete, and you do not need to be there."

"No, my clan should be in those parts during this time of year. I think it would do me some good to see them again. I will go and visit them after I grace these feuding lords with a kind hello."

"Kind?"

"Well, that depends on my mood really."

Josephine smiled a knowing smile, "As you wish, Leliana has the details of the mission."

* * *

Ever so slowly, Lavellan stepped into the rotunda. The room held a plethora of memories within its rounded walls. Solas had been gone now for a month, and yet everything was still just as he had left it. His books were still stacked next to the couch, paperwork still scattered across his small desk. It was … _wrong_. Even now, she knew if she were to close her eyes it would be alarmingly far too easy to imagine him standing close by. Always willing to speak of his travels, to pass his knowledge on to her, and how she had loved to listen to him speak.

A melancholy came over her; she missed him, more perhaps than she was willing to admit to herself. The ache however, had dulled with the passing of time. Even after he had rejected her in Crestwood that night, she had been able to still count on him being in this room. And that was what made it just so wrong, he was supposed to have been there, he was supposed to have stayed.

* * *

"_You missed a spot." Lavellan spoke softly, not really wanting to disturb him but. that. spot. She was tired of it blaring its ugly head at her, it needed to be mentioned._

"_I'm sorry?" Solas asked._

_Lavellan came to stand beside the latter he was standing on and pointed up at the offending mark on stone. "Right there, you missed it."_

"_Ah, so I have." Lathering the brush with more paint, Solas reached out to run the paint brush over that section of stone again. Before bristles meet with wall, Solas realized, with mounting horror, the folly of this action. Time slowed for him and he was suddenly presented with three options; cast a barrier to try and shield himself, laugh hysterically at the comicality of it, or run._

_Drip…_

_Still pondering his options, he watching with continued rising dread, as Lavellan blinked then brought her fingers to gingerly feel her now slightly moist hair. Moist from a drop of paint, a drop of paint that had just fallen from _his_ brush._

"_Solas…"_

"_Mhm… vhenan?"_

_She entertained thoughts of grabbing his bucket of paint and splashing its contents at him as she stared at her red fingertips. She also contemplated grabbing the latter and giving it a good shake, instead she settled with, "Is this your way of saying you prefer red heads?"_

_His laughter, deep and throaty, filled her ears. She turned her head up to watch him laugh; she loved that sound._

* * *

Sighing, Lavellan knew it would do her no good to linger within his old space, so she continued on, through the alcove and up the stairs and exited into the small library where Dorian was wont to spend his time.

Rounding to the other side of the room she found him, casually leaning back in one of the plush chairs. She noted, with a little amusement, his source of literature.

Hard in Hightown, how quaint.

"A little light reading for you today, Dorian?"

He laid the book down to lie against his chest, "Did you imagine that when we would be done with all the terrible nonsense, that a peaceful world would be so," Dorian scrunched his nose up, as if he could smell an insidious odor, "boring?"

Lavellan gave a very unlady like snort, "boring for you perhaps, but today is your lucky day! I've got a little adventure to go on and…"

Dorian jumped up off the chair, holding the discarded book in his right had so as to stop it from tumbling to the floor. "Say no more! I would be happy to accompany you, if only for a change of scenery."

"Great! We leave first thing in the morning!" Lavellan clapped her hands together, as a smile broke free.

"Not now?"

"No, not right now, I haven't even gotten the details yet from Liliana." As she spoke Lavellan pointed a finger skyward toward the level above them.

With a flourish, Dorian sat back down on the chair and stared at the book still in his hnad with dismay, "I may have to purge my mind later tonight, drinks?"

The smile that lifted her lips touched her eyes, "Oh yes please, but not so much that we end up regretting it tomorrow. Traveling with a hangover is not what I would call a good time."

"Positively dreadful." Dorian drawled.

With that, Lavellan chuckled and bid her friend till later, turning toward the staircase as she did.

The rookery was dark and smelled of crows … or were they pigeons? Lavellan shook her head at her own lack of bird species knowledge. A Dalish hunter she may be, but a studious one she was not, much to her Keepers dismay.

Lavellan noticed Leliana sitting at her desk, looking over papers with her head propped up on by one hand, the other hand idly toying with a black feather. Leliana didn't lift her head to acknowledge Lavellans advance toward her, but she also knew that Leliana was likely aware of the moment she had first stepped into the rotunda.

She watched her smile, dark and deadly. A predator if ever there was one.

"Josephine says you have intel for me."

"I do indeed." Here Leliana's head finally lifted and their eyes met. A sigh passed the bards lips, "Though, I confess, I do not think you will find it pleasant."

"I won't find it pleasant? What do you mean? I thought this was just a silly mission to go placate a pissing match between two lords." Lavellan asked, confusion marking her delicate features.

"Well, technically yes, but there has been a development. I was unsure if to tell you before we received more news." Leliana spoke slowly.

Lavellan watched her expectantly as Leliana stood from her chair and turned her back to her. The feather discarded to lie quietly on the desk.

"It's Solas."

One word, both music and torture to her ears. She longed to hear it and yet dreaded the implications of it. Calm, Lavellan thought, stay calm. "Have your scouts located his location?" To any passerby she would have indeed sounded calm if not for the slight hitch in her voice that betrayed her to Leliana, who in turn looked over her shoulder to the small elf.

"Yes and no."

Clear eyes narrowed, was her spymaster teasing her? If so, she did not find it the least bit amusing.

Leliana clasped her hands behind her back and turned her head to look forward again. "My agents have found someone who, after some persuasion, admitted to seeing him. It would seem our elusive friend has currently been through Kirkwall."

The news both excited Lavellan and made her weary. They would be traveling through Kirkwall during their travel to … where were they going again? Nevertheless there was a chance, slight though may be, that their paths may cross. What then? What would she do? Yell? Scream? Curse at him for leaving her, for leaving them all? Her heart felt heavy as she listened to the rest of what Leliana had to say about her next mission.

It appeared to be an argument over property and boundary lines. Simple enough to resolve as it was, not needing her presence to be there in the least. But the distraction would be welcome, and the chance to find Solas, too tempting to pass up.

She spent the rest of the morning at court, passing judgments over the pettiest of squabbles. All the while letting her mind wander back in time, to not so long ago, when her heart had sang with a lovers embrace.

* * *

_Calloused fingers slowly traced invisible lines on her upturned palm. A small smile graced her features as she tilted her head back to see his face. _

_Happy._

_Yes, she was happy, curled in a ball on the couch next to the man she loved. If only time would stand still so that the moment would never end._

"_Ma sa'lath, Solas."_

_And then she saw it, the rare smile she loved so much. It was too rare, she would endeavor to make it less so._

"_Ma vhenan." _

_His fingers left her hand to cup her cheek as he leaned in and kissed her softly. Her eyelids fluttered closed. _

_Happy._

Tbc.

Fanfic by Inca.

* * *

Yeah, I know, A LOT of flashbacks. There was a reason for that however. Hope you enjoyed it!

**Glossary**

_Ma Vhenan: _My heart

_Ma sa'lath:_ My one love

_Lethallan:_ Casual reference used for someone with whom one is familiar.

_Creators: _The elven pantheon comprises of five gods and four goddesses, whom the modern Dalish elves refer to as "the Creators".


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I hold no claim to the characters in this story, or the world for which they live. I do, however, claim ownership of the sugar cookie on my plate waiting patiently to be devoured. And what a sweet devouring it will be…

A/N: I hate filler, to the very core of my being. And writing this chapter felt like hammering a nail through each of my fingers to secure it to a wooden post. It hurt my brain so bad…

**Again, potential spoilers if you are playing, but have to beat, the game Dragon Age: Inquisition.**

Trolls - bridge

Flames - bonfire with marshmallows and chocolate and graham crackers!

* * *

**_Somewhere Sideways_**

**_Chapter Two_**

_April Rain_

_Count your blessings and prepare to change your point of view  
All those days that you spend waiting won't come back to you_

* * *

"Please Cullen? As a favor?"

"A favor? Which means you would owe me one."

"Not really. I got rid of Corypheus after all, we can call ourselves even."

"Playing the 'I saved the world' card are you now?"

"Yes."

"I should be here to help train the new recruits. Explain to me again why you want me to take this so called vacation to go traipse across to the Free Marches to hold a flag while you wave?" Cullen sighed.

"Well, of my inner circle most of my worrier friends have … that is to say… Well they're busy. And I trust your skill to be able to have my back if the worst came to pass."

"So what you are really saying is that you have already asked everyone else, and they turned you down. So I'm your last resort?"

"Noo." Lavellan drawled, though in truth that was exactly how it had been. When she had asked Casandra, her answer was that while she was in sore need to hit something, she was needed at the chantry for her coronation. Blackwall had just received news that the Gray Wardens were on their way to collect him, and he thought it best that he stick around and not be gone when they showed, to which she had agreed. That left Iron Bull, who, as it appeared, had already taken off towards the Storm Coast to meet with an informant of his. The chances were likely they would cross paths, but till then she thought it best to play it safe and have a well-rounded party. This meant she needed another warrior, and that was why she had just spent the last half hour pleading her case to the commander.

Cullen breathed out a sigh, "alright Inquisitor, it would be my honor to fight beside you should the need arise." He grimaced inwardly, there was going to be mountains of paperwork for him upon his return.

"The honor is all mine Commander Cullen, and thank you." She smiled up at him with a wink in her eye, thankful he hadn't thought to ask who else was going to be partaking in their little adventure.

Cullen smiled back in kind; he just knew he was going to regret this later. His eyes followed the form of the inquisitor as she turned and left, exiting through a side door instead of the door she had entered in moments before. A slight smirk splayed on his lips as he too turned and sat back down behind his desk. The smirk melted away to be replaced with a frown as he tried to situate himself on his new-to-him chair.

* * *

The afternoon sun cast its peaceful ray's on Lavellan's face, warming her skin from the chill in the air as she made her way from Cullen's office. The walk was welcome and she used the time to collect her thoughts. What an odd pairing of comrades she would be taking with her for her trip to the Free Marches. Cullen, Dorian and potentially Varric. If nothing else, the personalities between the three would prove to make the trip entertaining. Of course, she had yet to speak to Varric about the trip, but she doubted he would be unwilling to go. Especially since the journey would lead them through Kirkwall, and he had already made it known to her that he intended to leave them to return there.

Lavellan didn't hold it against the dwarf; he was just one out of many who wished to return home after the ordeal of Corypheus. That wasn't to say she wouldn't be sad to have him leave, he was a dear friend and had helped her keep her sanity.

She continued on, taking the long way back to the main hall so as to not cross through the rotunda for a second time that day. Once was plenty.

The great doors loomed before her and she paused, wondering at how many times before she had entered through them with her comrades behind her. How many times had their feet crossed the threshold? A number of times with laughter dancing between them, others with them limping their way in to rest and lick their wounds. Solas had always been with her then, every mission, every assignment, always there. But not this time, after this trip she would walk in through the great doors with even less friends at her side than before. Slowly, eventually, they were all leaving her.

Lavellan drew a deep breath and tried to push those thoughts away; they were quite negative and would land her in a place she would rather not go to. Instead, she took yet another step and made her way into the main hall.

The main hall was less lively now than it had been previously. There were still nobles clucking about, but the number had dwindled in the days following her victory. No, _our_ victory, Lavellan corrected herself. She didn't have to look hard for her dwarf friend, the moment she entered through the large doors he was already at her side, a knowing look on his face.

His arms were crossed as he looked at her expectantly, and she half wondered if she kept her silence if that would mean he would stay. He didn't need to leave, perhaps she could order him to stay?

When had she become so selfish?

Lavellan felt herself breath out a small sigh, Varric had his own life to live.

"A little bird let me know that you plan to be traveling to my favorite part of Thedas." Varric finally broke the silence between them.

As it turned out, she hadn't been incorrect with her assumption that Varric would be willing to travel to Kirkwall with them. Nor had she been incorrect in her thinking that he would leave their party and stay in Kirkwall. A sad bridge she would ultimately cross when she came to it.

Later that night, after the nobles where safely tucked away in their little corner of nobleness, Lavellan creeped into the cellar and confiscated two bottles of wine: one red, one pink. She was pretty sure that Josephine would notice the loss of the two, but at that particular moment, her friend seemed the lesser of the two evils.

With a bottle in each hand she made her way to Dorian's room silently so as to not draw undo attention to herself. She really was in no mood to explain why the Inquisitor was sneaking wine into a man's room. Never mind the fact that she was a grown adult and could almost do as she pleased, or the fact that it was to Dorian's room that she was heading. She lacked the proper anatomy, in all truth, to make the visit inappropriate.

Her pace quickened when Dorian's door came into sight. Finally, with what seemed to have taken a life time, she stood before the door and thumped her knuckles against the hard oak door three times. The door creaked open, and Lavellan was presented with the face of Dorian in the crack between wall and door.

A mischievous look danced across Lavellan's face as she raised the bottles to eye level. "Special delivery," she spoke softly.

The door opened further and she walked inside the sparse, yet unusually elegant in design, room. She had to hand it to him, his living area made hers pale in comparison. Dorian's seemed almost natural in its beauty, where her furniture grandeur appeared almost forced. She didn't mind though, after 27 years of living the Dalish life she could have had a room in the barracks and it would still seem grandiose to her.

The candles burned low, casting shadows to play at the walls. The look and feel of the room created a sort of calming ambiance. Dorian wasted no time, quickly popping the cork on the bottles and filling the two glasses with their respected choice of wine. As he did, Lavellan moved to the center of the room where two plush chairs sat facing each other, a small wooden table between them, and took a seat. Dorian joined, taking the seat across from her and handed her a glass full of the pink wine. Taking a tentative sip, she noted how the liquid was a very pleasant mixture of sweet and bitter. Lavellan smiled into the glass, and savored the feeling of the alcohol as it made its way to her stomach.

"I wonder, whatever did you see in that man?" Dorian asked as he leaned back in his seat, tipping the glass to his lips to swallow the crimson colored liquid.

What a way to start a conversation. No hello, nice to see you, how was your day? Just start in about her almost lover and the luckless romance. Lavellan glared the glare of a 1000 daggers. If Dorian noticed, he showed no signs of it.

She was silent a moment, reminiscing her and Solas' early and innocent flirting. What had it been that drew her to his person time and time again? Something to do with the way he had carried himself, it had mystified her. So strong and straight, confident and sure, and yet it his eyes had looked as though they belonged to a man who had seen too much, had _felt_ too much. Leaning forward in her seat she rested her elbows on her knees, her hands clasped together around her glass. "Sadness, I guess I saw sadness in him." Her eyes traveled down to stare at the pink wine. "I suppose that's not what you meant though. Knowledge, maybe, then? He just always seemed to know everything, you know?"

How sad was it that she really couldn't pin point what it had been that had turned her on to him. What she did know was whenever she was near him, she had felt an overwhelming sense of belonging, as if by his side was where she was meant to be.

"Yeah, a regular walking encyclopedia he was. You don't even know though, do you?" Dorian let out a mock laugh.

Perhaps he felt pity for his Inquisitor?

If she had been holding anything other than a glass with her precious pink colored wine, it would have been giving a lesson in flight. The wine didn't deserve such a fate however, so it was safe within the confines of the glass. Until she drank it, that was.

"Well what about you? What do you see in Iron Bull?"

"I often wonder that as well." Dorian paused; his unblinking eyes stared into her own, boring holes into her very sole. "All jokes aside, he never deserved you."

"Apparently he agrees with you, but that's neither here nor there." A snort escaped her then, "after all, I'm here and he's there." The hand that wasn't currently swishing the wine around extended a finger and traced a circle above her head, ending its train to point to an area off to her side. "I hate him just as much as I love him, and no, I don't forgive him. But let's talk of something, anything else, please Dorian?"

Dorian leaned forward on his chair, a wicked gleam dancing in his eyes and eyebrows waggling. "What you need is someone to take your mind off him. What about our commander? I dare say he wouldn't mind."

Taken aback she gave a nervous bark of a laugh, "Cullen? No Dorian, just no. He's like," she paused, looking for the right way to describe her relationship with the commander. "He's like the over protective older brother that I'm not sure I ever really wanted."

The gleam didn't leave his eyes as he continued to stare into her own, "it's okay, I'm sure we can find someone out there willing to share your bed."

A laugh erupted from her then as she leaned forward to swat at Dorian's shoulder playfully. He made a show of it, making it look as though she had hit him with her full strength.

"So you're going to smack people around who are here working their asses off for you?"

"Ha, abuse and violence is just another day in the lives of the inquisition. I even get the added bonus of leading everyone to their grisly death."

"Because you're doing the kind thing by destroying them before the world can? How gallant of you."

"Cheers to that my friend."

The rest of the night passed by in a drunken haze. If she tried hard enough to recount all that had happened, she could almost remember stumbling into Sera's room. That would make sense, seeing as she had just woken up in that very room sprawled out on the floor.

Curse Dorian, she blamed him for the pounding headache the night of wine had graciously gifted her. It wasn't exactly like he had forced her to partake, she conceded, but the thought didn't stop the pounding. In fact, just thinking was making it worse.

"Ugh." Lavellan groaned, bringing her hands to rub the sleep from her eyes.

Her mouth felt like she had just tried to eat a desert.

Her head felt like a giant had it in a vice.

Oh, this was going to be a miserable day, she should have known that it was perhaps against better judgment to have snuck back into the cellar for more wine. Another groan passed her lips, there were going to be rumors as her second trip had been a tad bit less stealthy than her first with all the laughter, the cursing of Solas, leaning against the wall for support… oh creators, she may have even tripped over a chair once or twice on her way.

Maybe the Free Marches could wait a day? Lavellan pulled the blanket back up over her head.

"Comfy are ya?"

Meanwhile, Sera had been quite comfortable sitting on her cushions before the bow windows; one leg bent beneath her the other swinging back and forth. Her fingers were nimble, her hand movement deft as she fletched her batch of arrows and rubbed a new layer of wax into her bow string. The last thing she needed was for her bow to suddenly decide enough was enough, and send her arrows flying crooked.

"What time is it?" Came a muffled inquiry from the blankets.

Without casting a glance out the windows to her side, Sera responded "I donno, I guess somewheres between breakfast an supper."

"I guess I can pretend I'm not late then."

* * *

The mountainous terrain was too unsteady to ride out on their mounts until they made it down to the valley floor. Lavellan turned to look over her shoulder, a last glance back toward Skyhold. Each time she left there was never a guarantee she would make it back, a morbid thought perhaps, but one that kept her feeling grounded. Especially after her battle with Corypheus, after saving the world, it was good to remember that above all, she was just one elf. A smirk took her face as she brought her eyes to look forward once more; she was just one elf, but one elf with a big sword and strong friends.

The company traveled in relative silence for the majority of the day, each lost in their own thoughts. Lavellan was thankful for the peace, still sporting a headache from the previous night. It had lessoned after Sera had given her a cup of … well there hadn't been a name for it per say, but suffice that it must have been a putrid concoction of Rashvine Nettle and Elfroot. With the way it had burned when going down it made her suspect that Sera may have added a shot of whiskey … or two. After swallowing the substance she hadn't known if she was supposed to find her death bed or retch. A shiver ran up her spine thinking back to the laugh that had come from Sera at her distress.

They had long since left the Frostback Mountians behind and were traversing through the forest beyond. Travel was slow in these areas as the woods were thick with brushes and brambles. Eventually, Cullen came back from scouting the trail ahead and they all decided it was time for a quick break. Their stomachs all growled with a collective rumble that food was required. It wasn't long before they found a place suitable for the short rest. The trees, though still thick gave way to a moderate sized clearing. The sun shined brightly across the yellowing grass, tree stumps dotted the clearing and gave the impression the clearing wasn't exactly nature made.

Cullen dismounted his horse first, casting a wary scan about the tree line before tying the reins on a low stooped branch and heading into the glade. Dorian and Varric followed suite, each securing their respected mounts to nearby branches. Lavellan was the last to follow, holding back to double check the reins on the mounts and to do a quick surveillance of the area.

Her training as a hunter demanded no less; it had been ingrained into her subconscious that the feeling of safety in the wilderness was no more than pretense. Be swift, be precise, and always respectful. Those were the words her trainer had made her repeat every time they would head out, a mantra of sorts.

Nothing appeared out of place and so she made her way to the middle of the glade where her friends were setting about pulling out their meager rations.

Bread and cheese.

She was so very tired of bread and cheese.

Graciously she accepted her portion from Cullen's out stretched hand, and sat on the grass between her two human comrades. Silently, she listed to the three of them as they exchanged stories of first loves, more than once drawing a burst of laughter from her. Until, that was, images of her most recent love flashed before her mind's eye.

* * *

"_Excuse me? You think I'm a squirrel?" Solas questioned, his eyes narrowing to show his displeasure in the comparison she made between him and a rodent._

"_What? You're twisting my words, I didn't say that you _were_ a squirrel, just you know… reclusive and maybe just a little bit nutty, _like _a squirrel." Lavellan laughed, enjoying the playful banter with her otherwise stoic fade expert._

"_Ah, so an acorn then." A finely chiseled eyebrow quirked and a smile threatened the corners of his lips._

"_I could have said fruity." Her lips turned from a smile to a pout as she nudged his shoulder with her own._

* * *

Shaking her head to clear herself of the unbidden memory she noticed Cullen suddenly spring to his feet, his sword griped in his hand, ready to draw.

"The horses… are fearful."

The sound hooves pounding on the ground hovered over them, enshrouding them in a veil of dreed, threatening.

Lavellan's ears twitched, listening to the forest for tells.

A twig snapped as Varric too stood from his stump, holding Bianca at the ready.

The tension in the air snapped with the howls of the hungry predators just out of sight.

Wolves.

In a flash of dark fur, the wolves rushed from the tree line, their attack plainly focused upon the four of them. Dorian leapt from where he had been sitting, staff in hand, and started casting ice magic. Lavellan spared a thought about how she would have to thank him for not burning the forest down later, before she too was up and running at the nearest of the wolves. Drawing her sword, she dropped into a defensive position as one wolf lunged at her, its fangs aimed for her throat. Nimbly, she spun to avoid the attack, swinging her sword in a downward arc as she finished her spin. She missed the body of the wolf but managed to catch its hind legs as it tried to leap out of the way.

She groaned, she hated fighting wolves, they were very agile creatures, and her fighting style didn't work as well with such creatures.

"Inquisitor!" She heard Cullen yell out from somewhere to her right. His words drew her attention and her head snapped in his direction. A streak of gray darted left then right, she heard the snarl and instinctively raised her sword up to block the attack she anticipated. As if on cue, the wolf darted right one more time before lunging for her, its mouth open to reveal glistening white fangs. She braced herself for the impact, but it didn't come. Instead of colliding with her sword, the wolf laid sprawled on the forest floor, an arrow protruding from its skull. Lavellan gave a quick nod to Varric in thanks, before turning to meet with another of the wolves.

A memory came to her then, uninvited, of Solas. She had felt a measure of enjoyment while watching him wield his weapon; the way his clothing would pull across his form, accenting the ripple of muscle. With him at her side, she had always felt safe, untouchable. He had been a physical manifestation of courage for her, driving her to strive for more, to be more.

Too late, she realized, the thought of Solas had made her unconsciously lower her guard, and braced herself for the inevitable attack. How pathetic, if only her trainer could see her now.

She cried out with the pain, almost dropping to her knees if not for the adrenalin that rushed through her veins. She could feel the teeth tear through her armor and into the delicate skin beneath. The jaws of the wolf clamped down tighter, its front paws braced against her chest, hind legs still on the ground.

The beast started to shake its head to and fro, wrenching her shoulder as it went. Her sword dropped from her hand, fingers going numb from the pain in her shoulder. Lavellan brought her other hand up to try and pry the jaws open, to land a punch to an eye, anything. She had to do something!

Her knees finally gave out as the power of the wolf overcame her and forced her to topple over onto her back. It was a dire position to be in she knew, but could hardly spare the thought, knowing that at any time the wolf would let go of her shoulder and try for a kill bite to her throat. Frantically, her eyes darted around, looking for her sword. Instead, she caught a blur of yellow and silver, felt a jerk, and the weight on her chest was suddenly gone.

Rolling over onto her side, she put her weight on her good arm to lift her up to see what had happened. Cullen was wrestling with the wolf in the dirt to her side. Fearing for him, and with a new surge of adrenalin, Lavellan staggered to her feet. She found her sword no more than a foot away and leaned down to grab it with her good had.

One step, one swing.

Blood and gore splattered across her face, and for a split second she worried she may have missed her mark.

Cullen heaved the wolf carcass off his chest with a grunt, but didn't stand until Lavellan offered her hand to him. She watched him shake his head and stand on his own, not accepting her help.

"How bad?" He asked, indicating with a tilt of his head to her shoulder.

"I'm fine, just a scratch." Lavellan waved him off. In truth she knew it was worse than a scratch, but she saw no need to show her weakness to the commander. Instead, she turned and searched with her eyes the battle field to find her friends, and see how they fared.

She watched as Dorian froze the last of the wolves, and Varric shatter its body with a well-aimed arrow. For the most part, they appeared unscathed.

Pink lips frowned. While she was glad no others seemed to have been hurt, she was a little annoyed with herself.

Stupid wolves.

Tbc.

Fanfic by Inca.

* * *

The one last memory flash back I actually wrote for the first chapter, but it didn't get used. It made me giggle, though so I couldn't just drop it… Also, Oh Solas, Solas, wherefore art thou Solas?


End file.
